


Mother's Magic

by Pavane



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgardian gender roles, Backstory, Disciplinary Spanking, Discipline, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Frigga's magic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki's Magic, Loki-centric, Mother-Son Relationship, Motherhood, Over the Knee, Parent Frigga, Parenthood, Poor Loki, Spanking, loose mythology references, young loki, young thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 11:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pavane/pseuds/Pavane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a young Loki takes his mischief too far, Frigga punishes him but then finds a more effective solution to curing the insecurities that drive him. Disciplinary spanking and mother-son feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Magic

Frigga was hoping to spend some time in the family’s private sitting room to relax in quiet, but before she even opened the door she could hear the row from down the hall. Her husband and both of her sons were shouting at each other-- not an uncommon occurrence, she had to admit, but never a pleasant one.

She opened the door to see Odin and Thor turned upon Loki backed into a corner, a position that was decidedly disagreeable to him, but there was little he could do about it as Odin's face was red as he thundered: “I have not raised my sons to sneak and stoop to such low mischief!” 

“You went out of your way to humiliate her in the worst way you could think of!” Thor added.

“As if you’ve never humiliated her before! You’re always knocking her down and insulting her,” Loki retorted to his brother, making a show of proud defensiveness even though Frigga could see how his hands shook with rage and fear.

“In a _fair fight_ , Loki! I’ve defeated her in combat, but I’ve never snuck upon her _sleeping_! This is the height of dishonor!”

“What is going on?” Frigga asked to the air, hoping that somehow between the three of them she would acquire the full story.

“Loki has become frustrated with his inability to defend himself against Sif’s challenges and decided to take revenge through less than honorable means,” Odin replied, though he kept his good eye glaring pointedly at his disgraced son.

“He cut off _all_ her hair!” Thor added, clearly horrified on behalf of his friend.

“Now she looks as ugly as she is on the inside,” Loki grumbled.

“Loki!” Frigga scolded. “I cannot believe you would speak of a lady that way.”

Loki's face fell from plain outrage to betrayal as his mother, the merciful one, scolded him with the same critical authority as his father. “She’s _not_ a lady,” he insisted, the bitterness of his own wounds lending sting to his words.

“She _is_ a lady, and your friend!” Thor scolded him. “And a much better one than you deserve!”

“She’s never been my friend. You make sure none of your friends are my friends!”

“Loki,” Odin’s voice cut through his sons’ bickering like a hot knife, and even though he spoke the name of one son both of them knew well enough to fall silent at the warning in his tone. “Friend or no, there is no excuse for this behavior. Enough argument with your brother. We will discuss the consequences for your actions in private.” He pointed to the door of the bedroom he shared with Frigga and Loki’s face paled, for all of them knew the proposed discussion would be woefully one-sided— unless one considered the interaction between hand and bottom to be “discussion.”

“Odin, if I might?” Frigga asked, giving her husband a meaningful look. She knew Odin would treat him justly, but Frigga felt it was her place to address this. The way Loki spoke of Sif hurt and angered her not only as Loki’s parent but a woman, and one whom she thought Loki respected. It seemed only right his mother be the one to correct his mistaken impressions of women and respect.

Odin blinked in surprise, knowing Frigga hated even to be within listening distance when he chastised their sons, but one less bout with his crying, struggling second son was no great grief to him. He waved a dismissive hand. “He is all yours, but take caution of his lies and false tears as he seeks your mercy. He is not one to accept discipline easily.”

Loki’s eyes flashed with indignation at this warning, his lip darting out a little further in protest. From what Frigga could hear Thor was openly defiant-- and, mercy, _loud_!-- when Odin took him task, so it was indeed unfair for Loki to be singled out for his reluctance. Surely it was no surprise that neither of their proud, stubborn sons came to punishment willingly?

With a meaningful glance from Frigga Odin left the sitting room, calling Thor after him, removing him from where he might derive sadistic pleasure from his brother’s cries. When Loki looked to her in curiosity-- was she serious about punishing him instead of Odin?-- Frigga raised her eyebrows and nodded curtly towards the door.

“Now Loki,” she started calmly once they were in the bedroom. “I think you know well what is coming and why you deserve it.”

“It’s not fair!” he shrieked, face contorting with self-pitying rage. “Sif can humiliate me time and time again, but when I do this _one_ thing--” 

“Loki,” she interrupted him and his face froze mid-syllable, though he puffed up in anger. “I will hear your explanation, but do not raise your voice at me.”

The outrage at having been interrupted softened as he realized she was still giving him permission to speak. Frigga wondered with a pang if Odin never let him speak his piece first; perhaps that was why Loki was so argumentative, for fear of never being heard at all.

“Everyone says that I treated Sif dishonorably,” he explained, eyes steely with conviction, “but Sif is not honorable to _me_.” 

“How has Sif mistreated you?”

He heaved out a dramatic sigh and glanced at her peevishly, as if abashed that she would make him list his grievances aloud. It was no secret to anyone that Sif was a ruthless competitor in the various sparring and swordplay the young warriors practiced together, merciless to those she challenged and those who challenged her-- and that Loki bore the brunt of it simply for being smaller and weaker. Thor and his friends could hold their own and best her, but although even amongst children Asgardian custom demanded he never back down from a challenge, Loki could never win.

“She makes a show of pretending to challenge me honorably, but it’s _not_ fair. It’s not a fair fight to challenge someone she knows to be weaker. She watches for what weapon I am struggling with and challenges me with that, or Thor tells her something I’m afraid of and she uses it against me. But because she’s a girl and I’m a boy, the others just think it’s funny. She’s not _supposed_ to be able to beat me.”

“Sex has nothing to do with skill,” Frigga replied calmly. “Sif works very hard to be as good as she is.”

“ _I_ work very hard, too!” Loki cried indignantly, and Frigga saw the beginning of frustrated tears in his green eyes. “But it doesn’t even matter! She takes advantage of me so I can never win!”

“I understand you are frustrated, my son, but how does taking advantage of _her_ make it better? Revenge feels good in the moment, but what good does it really do? Now that you’ve cut her hair, are you any more capable of a fighter than you were before? Is she any less capable of humiliating you than she was?”

Loki’s pouting lips trembling, wishing he had a proper argument in response. “No,” he admitted begrudgingly. 

“So was this a constructive way of reacting to Sif’s treatment of you?”

“No.”

“So we are agreed that you behaved dishonorably towards her.”

“But . . .”

She hadn’t interrupted him. “But what?” she asked.

He opened his mouth but was silent. Apparently he had assumed his “but” would be cut off without even having one. 

“So we are agreed,” she said with finality, raising her eyebrows. He shuddered and pouted as he stared at her but this time he did not protest.

She went to her vanity and retrieved a flat-backed wooden hairbrush. She knew Odin tended to use harsher implements like a birch or his belt that necessitated the boys bend over the bed-- when his broad hand wasn’t enough to get the point across, anyway-- but Frigga was most familiar with what she had been punished with when she was a girl, and she would prefer to hold her son close to her to reassure him even as she punished him. Besides, there was a note of poetic justice in the hairbrush being used for this particular crime . . . 

Loki’s eyebrows dropped and she could sense his hesitation, though she wasn’t sure if he felt insulted by her choice or simply feared what was unfamiliar. She sat on the bed within arm’s distance of him; he flinched from her and for a moment she was afraid he might resist with all his power and she would need to call Odin to help her restrain him. However, as soon as she took his wrist and met his eyes, he went limp as a rag doll and she pulled him easily across her lap, sparing them both the stress of commanding he surrender himself. 

She laid a firm hand on his back to steady him and hopefully reassure him a much as was possible. He exhaled with a small whimper as she wriggled his leggings down to expose his pale buttocks but he kept still on her thighs, clutching her skirts in preparation for the blows to follow.

She snapped the brush downward against his left cheek, four quick strokes in rapid succession, and Loki let out a short yelp of pained surprise. However, Frigga was silent in response and swiftly attacked the other side. She did not scold as she spanked; Loki already knew why he was receiving his punishment and she preferred to avoid further argument from her son who already struggled so much with needing the final word. The less said, the better. 

Besides, there was little breath left for Loki to protest anyway any attempt at stoicism dissolved under the steady assault of the brush. He squirmed as much as he was able, hoping to prevent her from landing in the same spot twice-- but uselessly, for Frigga had far more control over her target than he did. He yelped and whimpered liberally—and Frigga was glad he was spared the shame of his father and brother listening in-- but although Odin had warned her about his manipulative tears, she recognized these as the wretched cries of true pain.

When she snapped the brush against the taut skin of his upper thigh he arched his back against her hand but was held fast. “Mama, please!" he wailed desperately, voice breaking. But Frigga did not relent, though her heart stung to hear how his cries reduced him to a whimpering babe; he had outgrown calling her “mama” ages ago.

Finally, when Loki hung limp in defeat, silent aside from some sniffs and barely bucking at the blows, she stopped. There was a bluish bruised tinge to his backside, not the glowing red she expected, with concentrated points of dark purple where she had smacked him longest and hardest on the roundest points of his buttocks.

Before she had begun spanking him, Frigga had seen her second son in the way as his mother she always saw him: eloquent and intelligent, sensitive and certainly well-bred enough to know better than to stoop to such mischief, especially against a friend-- nor pitch a fit at his parents for daring to correct what he knew to be wrong. And she knew he knew he had done wrong, long before they had discussed it; he knew he deserved his punishment.

However, looking down now as he quivered and wept over her lap, she was hit painfully with how _small_ he was. She saw him as Thor's companions must see him: a slight, skinny young boy easily brought to tears, in some ways even more feminine than Sif herself. As the youngest of his friends he was naturally at a disadvantage, and in the end his Jötun heritage had given him no particular advantage of strength over his brother and their companions. And yet he was so _difficult_ , always making such a fuss of provoking those stronger than himself, even though in the end it only lead to his further humiliation.

Frigga had always been fond of Sif, who was skilled and smart and often the sole voice of reason and responsibility against her companions’ more bone-headed ideas. And she understood her predicament as a female warrior amongst her peers, how forceful she needed to be just to be regarded as their equal. But it was not Loki’s duty to serve as the point of comparison to prove her worthiness, especially not when he also struggled so much to prove his own worth. And how was he to defend himself against her, when he could not beat her strength but had no honorable outlet for his cunning? Frigga could now see the twisted sense of justice from Loki’s perspective: having been so often emasculated by her, he had struck out at her femininity so that she might feel the shame of being less than she ought to be. 

Frigga set aside the brush and placed a gentle hand on Loki's back. He flinched but then relaxed, recognizing his punishment was done. He did not stir to move from her lap, however, so Frigga rubbed her hand in light circles, shushing him gently and soothingly although by now his sobs were mostly silent.

"If you cannot best Sif at her own game, we must teach you a better way of defending yourself," Frigga said softly after several minutes of this comfort. "When you are ready, I will teach you some of my own methods."

At this Loki started up, pushing himself against her legs and turning so that he could look her in the face. His green eyes were skeptical. "A woman's magic?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed. The hairbrush had apparently not cured his disdain for femininity, but Frigga understood such thoughts had surely been pounded into him far deeper than she could simply smack out.

"Your father is a master of seiðr," she pointed out. "Is he any less of a man? Any less respected in Asgard? And what of Sif, who wields a weapon as well as any of the boys?”

He gazed up at her with wide eyes and she thought he might be uncomfortable twisting himself as he was, so she helped guide him off her thighs to sit on her lap, perched so his weight rested on his legs where she had not struck them. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her. He immediately collapsed against her, burying his tear-streaked face into her shoulder, exhausted from the ordeal and longing for the forgiving comfort of her arms and assurance that the worst was over.

“You must not think less of those whose talents defy the conventions of their sex,” she told him, continuing to rub his back. “It is a challenge to stand apart from what is expected of you, but not without its rewards, should you do it confidently and proudly. And I think it is clear already that your talents are not constrained by what is typical.” She was careful not to suggest that he lacked as a warrior; in time, she was certain he would grow into himself and master competence in battle, if not excel, but the skills Loki was competent in already-- cunning, clever wit, an articulate tongue-- were not those typically demanded of young men of Asgard. Goodness knows if they were, it would be Thor she would be worrying about . . . 

"I—I’d like to learn,” he admitted, speaking softly into her neck. “Will you show me now?” 

Frigga had not expected him to want a lesson immediately; however, given the state of his backside, his tear-stained face and red, swollen eyes, she wasn't terribly surprised he preferred to linger in the privacy of her chambers a while longer, either. "Yes, my son," she conceded. "I will give you your first lesson now. But you must promise me that until you have mastered each spell—and I will tell you when you have-- you will only practice it under my watch. It is very difficult to manage new magic, and even more difficult to correct once it has gone wrong."

"Yes, of course!" he agreed eagerly. Too eagerly. Frigga expected he would need the reminder frequently in the next few months, though hopefully not often enough to warrant a reunion with her hairbrush.

There was no graceful way of removing himself from her lap, and Loki scrambled and hunched as he struggled to right his pants while preserving as much of his modesty as possible. Frigga suppressed a smile of amusement at his adult sense of shame before his own mother when he was still young enough to be punished as he had. "You may bring my beginner’s book. It's on the shelf in the corner, the one bound in blue leather," she instructed him. She imagined he might want another minute more before sitting on his bottom.

Loki flew to the shelf and found what she had requested almost immediately. It was clear he had taken time to scan their titles before, though perhaps not touched them; Frigga could not remember how she had phrased the prohibition—do not _touch _or do not _read_ \-- but she knew Loki would have found any available loophole.__

__He sank slowly onto the bed with a soft hiss of air between his teeth but otherwise indicated none of his usually post-punishment resentment and sulking. Although she did not regret chastising him as he deserved, Frigga wondered if the best she could do for his impression of women's worth was in fact what she was doing now._ _

__The book was large enough to spread across both of their laps as they sat with legs touching. There were many large diagrams and lengthy text, but Frigga mostly ignored them in favor of showing Loki herself, demonstrating and then positioning his slender fingers in her own, trying to teach him the proper technique for a fire-starting spell._ _

__"You've watched me do this before-- there!" she praised him as he got it right and gratifying tongues of flames leapt from his fingers, lighting up his eyes._ _

__“I want to learn to disappear,” he said, eyes burning with ambitious enthusiasm. “I want to learn to make copies of myself so I can create an entire army of Lokis!”_ _

__Frigga laughed. “In time! There is a quite a bit you must master first, but if you are willing to practice every day . . .”_ _

__“I will!”_ _

__“But the _first_ thing you must do is apologize to Sif,” Frigga insisted, “and bring her to me so you can help me repair what you have done.”_ _

__Loki nodded, but somewhat absent-mindedly, snapping his fingers so the flames went out._ _

__By the time they left the bedroom, Odin and Thor had returned to the sitting room, assuming the punishment to have finished. Thor had the conflicted look he usually did when Loki was punished for reasons he agreed with, wanting so badly to lord it over him but at the same time impatient to have his playmate back. His expression changed to skepticism when he saw the prideful, unashamed look on his brother’s face—not the cowed sulk he was expecting-- and then to fascinated surprise when Loki noted his gaze and did his fire trick for him._ _

__“You will have to show everyone!” Thor insisted, having long forgotten that his friends were supposed to be angry with Loki. Frigga was glad, for what Thor approved, his friends followed suite. He seized his little brother by the arm to drag him off to boast about. Loki winced at the rough treatment but made only a superficial show of annoyance as he was dragged out the door._ _

__“You are teaching him magic, Frigga?” Odin asked when they were gone._ _

__“I hope it will prevent this sort of thing happening in the future,” she replied. “Loki needs something to defend himself, something to be _proud_ of, and he has a gift for it.”_ _

__"I learned seiðr long after I mastered weaponry," Odin pointed out, but did not protest further. He wanted a source of pride and glory for his younger son as much as Frigga did, and Frigga would teach him well. He offered a wry smile. “So, _somehow_ he’s taken after you?”_ _

__“The bond of motherhood is stronger than blood,” Frigga answered sagely._ _


End file.
